people-sketch: two conversations in a bar

From August 2007.

(I put up this post one time about a conversation with my redneck neighbor. I had taken some time off from work, I was too down to function very well. I ended up taking three weeks off, which seriously irritated my supervisor. Anyway, one week after the redneck conversation, I went out to a bar.)

I keep making plans to leave the house- "I should get out, do something"- but then find excuses to stay in- "I'm tired. I'm broke. I'm...um...tired".

I read too much. By the end of each day, my eyes hurt.

I drink too much.

One day I finally talk myself into getting out. I go to a pub. I have the option of sitting in a booth and being alone, but I talk myself into sitting at the bar. I tell myself, "Be social. Interact with humans. Make your psychologist happy." I have to selectively ignore the fact that she would loathe my being in a bar.

A guy walks in, sits to my left. He's wearing a white dress shirt, black pants. His sleeve is riddled with stains.

I say, "Waiter."

He says, "Olive Garden. Best job ever. Love it."

He waves at the bartender, says, "Dude, I am so sorry about last night." He turns to me and explains: "I was here last night. Got totally messed up." He asks the bartender, "Did I pay my tab?" Bartender replies, "Yup" and the guy tells me "Sometimes I get so out of it that I forget to pay. I've had that happen at least three times now. I black out, wake up at home and there's a message from the bar...I'm special; they've got my personal info on record. I'll hear, 'Beep. This is The Bar. We've got a tab here you need to pay on.'"

I tell him, "They must trust you...to let you leave like that, without paying."

"Meh, they know I'm just drunk. And I'm a waiter. They're good to waiters here."

I drink a bit. My head is off-kilter from the alcohol and social-anxiety. Thoughts swim, merge...like bobbing wax in a lava lamp. I look around.

"They have a lot of televisions in here," I say. "It makes my eyes hurt. Too much flashing going on, everywhere you look."

"I don't watch television," waiter-guy says. "Unless I'm out like this or something. But at home, I don't have a television".

"Good for you. You must be a smart one."

"Nah, it's not that. It's just a computer thing. I'm on the computer a lot. Warcraft."

He looks at me. I don't say anything. He says, "You haven't played Warcraft?"

"I haven't."

"Well, it's kind of pointless. I'm not into it really. I play a little bit, but mostly I'm too busy for stuff like that."

He mentions a topic, then backs away from it. He's worried I'll judge. I don't want him to feel that way, so I bait him into elaborating. And the best way to bait someone with a special interest: say something inaccurate about the topic.

I say, "Warcraft. That has...like, magicians?"

"No, no. Mages."

"And you fight...goblins?"

"Orcs. And it depends on which faction you're with. You could be an orc and fight the mages...well, technically you're fighting the Alliance, which includes the mage guild..."

He pauses, then says "I think, anyway. I don't have a lot of time for it".

"Right."

"It's like I said, it's sort of pointless."

He's in retreat mode again. I have to keep him going: "Doesn't sound pointless. Sounds like you're really having to employ strategy, logic..."

"Very much so."

"Sounds like chess a little bit. You're having to think through all of the steps."

"It's like chess, but way more complicated. I'm mean, with the guilds, you're having to compartmentalize your powers and then sort of delegate everything...like, depending on your skill level, you're having to delegate this finite quantity of power and that all gets down to the specialty of the characters..."

"And they participate in factions?"

"Um...it's more complicated than that. It's hard to describe, because I'm not overly familiar with it..."

He has to throw out these defensive clarifications.

I ask, "What's the difference between a faction and a guild?"

"Okay. It's like this: in the game, you have to choose to be on one of two sides..."

"Is it a good and evil kind of thing?"

"No. It's just two sides. It's value neutral. And the two sides...those are the factions."

He names then. I can't remember the names.

He continues: "Then, within each faction, there are a variety of skill subsets; characters with a specific focus. Some characters focus on magic, some on weapons, some on intellectual ability...and these specialties, these are the guilds."

"Which guild are you in?"

"Oh, dude...I've got like twenty characters going right now. I'm in all of them. You have to employ all of the different guilds in order to win a fight. You can have multiple characters or you can join up with other online players. What I've learned is that: when you're in a fight, you have to counter-balance the skills of your characters so that you can inflict maximum damage."

He describes a typical fight and begins lapsing into increasingly obscure gaming lingo. I'm zoning out. All I can manage at this point is, "Chess-like."

"Totally. You should play it. It's really, really good."

I pretend to watch television. He keeps going. And since it's my fault, I feel trapped. I hear the phrase "skill level" 800 times. Eventually, he starts calling people on his cell phone. He tells someone, "Seriously dude, PVP was a joke. I kicked his ass. He broke out this dinky little sword and this sad little pouch of magic stones and I was like, 'Sorry bitch, but I can hurl lava.' Boom! Destroyed him."

A guy takes the seat to my left. He watches a television that's showing a news station. He glances at me and says, "Ugh, the news. Nothin' but lies."

Conspiracy theorist. I should have stayed home.

He asks, "You buying any of that stuff? The news?"

"I guess not."

I'm conflicted about whether or not to have this conversation. On the one hand, I'm curious about which sort of conspiracy person he is...left-wing or right-wing? On the other hand, it will bore the shit out of me either way. I get enough of this kind of shit at work. There's always this part of me that wants to know, that wants to label, but it's tough to stay motivated.

The guy says, "It's getting to where they don't even bother with news anymore. They'll talk about the weather or do these little puff pieces. It's all distraction. Noise."

Generally speaking, there are two conspiracy people:

1. book-of-Revelation, mark-of-the beast types; they fixate on "single currency, single government" paranoia and utilize catch-phrases such as, "New World Order" and "cashless society". These are Christians with too much free time.

2. 9-11-is-a-lie, the-buildings-were-rigged types; they fixate on neo-conservative/Israel paranoia and utilize catch-phrases such as, "Building 7" and "controlled demolition." These are politically disaffected sorts with too much free time.

I steel myself. I say, "So, the news is a lie. Example."

He says, "9-11"

I say "Excuse me," walk outside, call my former roommate and say, "You have to hang out with me today. I'm at the pub. If I don't have a normal conversation today, I'll lose it. I'll become one of Them."

I go back inside. The guy is waiting: "There is so much they never explained. Like Building 7..."

And so on. I drink an ungodly amount. By the time my old roommate shows up, it's too late: I'm one of Them. We move to a booth and I ramble for hours about my topics of choice: depression, isolation, anxiety.

He listens and nods politely, because that's what friends do: nod politely as you drink and over-verbalize your despair.

That's my week off.